


Burn

by StillRose



Series: Forged [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, Handcuffs, M/M, Spells & Enchantments, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillRose/pseuds/StillRose
Summary: Sammy needed to get away from Dean.





	1. Burn

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had some requests to post my very Supernatural stories from my LiveJournal here. These two stories are two parts. They are ten years old and some of my earliest writings. I am posting them pretty much unchanged. Here's the first chapter of the first of the two parts.
> 
> This takes place season 1 or 2.

 Sam rotated his wrists in an effort to ease the chafing burn. The braided rope had rubbed painfully against his flesh while he had struggled to escape. However, the pain was nothing compared to the aching  _burn_  he felt to go to  _her_. After quickly seeing to his wrists Sam set about untying the knots on the ropes binding his ankles.  A small snort of sibling triumph tried to sneak past Sam's lips as he felt the knots give way. Dean was good; but in this case Sam was better. He had spent a good deal of his childhood figuring out how to escape the figurative, and literal, restraints of his big brother and father. Getting free of a few ropes was a delay at best.

    Finally loose, Sam stood up and moved cautiously across the room to the bed where Dean was sprawled. Dean was fast asleep from the exhaustion of trying to keep Sam from leaving. Sam smiled at the irony of that thought. Dean was always trying to keep Sam from leaving, once again, nothing new. Before Dean had tried to keep him from leaving for college, now Dean was trying to keep Sam from leaving to go to  _her_.

    Sam stifled a groan. This time the thought of  _her_ sent a flare of red desire deep in his groin. God he needed to get to her!  _She_  would give him release; put out the fire.  _She_ would give him everything he wanted and all he had to do was get away from Dean. Sam looked around the room as quietly as he could. The quickest way to get to her would be to take the Impala and to do that he needed keys. 

    The hotel room was small and it didn't take long for Sam to realize Dean hadn't carelessly left the keys lying about. Sam looked around again; this time he was looking for Dean's jacket. If he was lucky he'd find the keys stuffed there in a pocket. Sam  _really_  needed to get lucky. Any other time that silent pun would have him smiling but not now. Now another flare of desire gripped him and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from moaning. Sam found Dean's jacket and quietly swore at his brother. The keys weren't there either. Sam tried to steady his breathing. Anger and desire were lethal to critical thinking skills. If Sam was to escape from Dean and make it to her, he had to out-think his brother.

     Normally a hung-over Sam could mentally outmatch Dean but not a desire-cursed Sam. A desired-cursed Sam versus a pissed, scared, and protective Dean was not an even match. Some small part of Sam wanted the red flag of remembering he was cursed to signal the rest of him to turn around, go back to the chair, and to let Dean find a way to break the curse. But all the red flags were marching south of his personal equator and were merrily throwing themselves on his growing bonfire of need.

    Once again Sam made his way over to the bed where his brother lay stretched out on his back. This time Sam studied Dean's form more carefully. He couldn't help but notice the deep furrow between Dean's eyes. Even in his sleep, Dean was worried.

     That small part of Sam that was desperate to stop his flight wanted to run a finger down the furrow; both to comfort and to wake Dean. Instead, Sam's gaze moved on past the distinct arch of Dean's upper lip, across the street light tunneling under the window shades to stroke Dean's neck and down past the taut white T-shirt that served to accentuate Dean's well-muscled chest instead of cover it. Desire was flooding Sam's body, his brain, his senses and it was making him look at his brother in a way he so did not need to see right now. Sam bit his lip again and sucked on the freshly drawn blood. The salty metallic taste and pain brought some sense of reality back.

     _The keys, Sam, find the keys,_  Sam silently reminded himself of his goal and focused back on his search. He let his gaze ease past Dean's familiar and worn belt buckle and down over the small denim rise created by a buttoned fly to settle on Dean’s right hip.  In the low light cast from the street lamp it was easy for Sam to see the denim of Dean's jeans lying soft and smooth against Dean's hip; like a caress, he thought. Sam's breath hitched again.  _College boy,_  he thought,  _you really need to avoid similes for the time being_. Sam let his gaze wander back to Dean's other hip. Sam smiled and then winced at the pain that brought his abused lip.

    The denim wasn't so smooth over Dean's left hip. There was a round bulge and Sam knew that's where the keys had to be. Sam edged closer to the bed. The need to leave and the consuming need for  _her_  continued to burn Sam up and a fine sheen of sweat slicked his skin sensitizing him to the air stirred by the humming AC unit in the corner. Sam had to have those keys and the only way to get them was to take them from his brother.

    Overpowering Dean wasn’t an option. Sam had only ended up tied to a chair last time he tried that tack. The bright pain of wanton lust surged through Sam again as he thought of the way Dean’s body had pressed against him as they fought. The fight had left Sam once again unable to go to  _her_  and Dean even more exhausted; exhausted enough to fall asleep on the bed while Sam pleaded for Dean to just give up and let him go. Sam knew Dean would never give up.

     Briefly, the obscene thought of taking the chair and slamming it over Dean’s head, beating him unconscious or worse, flashed through Sam’s mind. Sam pushed the palms of his hands to his eyes as if he could push the thoughts out of his skull. Once again pain bought him a brief moment of rationality. No, he wasn’t so far gone he could hurt Dean.  _Another reason why I have to get away,_  Sam thought. He took a calming breath and lowered his hands back down to his side.

    Sam moved to the edge of the bed so his legs gently brushed the side. He bent his long length over his brother and cautiously reached out a hand towards his brother’s left hip. Sam had always been the voice of law and reason in the family. He had always tried to be the Boy Scout even if he’d never stayed in a town long enough to join. Still, Sam was a Winchester and like his brother he had learned the arts of petty larceny from their father. Those arts had been just a few more “survival skills” to be learned along with shooting, hand-to-hand combat, and the Roman Catholic rite of exorcism.

    Carefully Sam began to ease his fingers down over his brother’s jeans and let the tips slip slowly between the rough edge of the denim and the softer cotton of the pocket lining. As Sam’s fingers crept deeper into Dean’s pocket Sam began to be aware of a new heat; Dean’s heat. The warmth rising from the skin under the worn cotton was wrapping itself around Sam’s hand.

    Sam paused for a moment to bask in the sensation. Dean wasn’t  _her_  but he was here! Sam closed his eyes and just gave into the sensation. Twin fires were licking their way through him. Oh, Sam still felt the need to go to her and he knew only she could give him release from this burn. Yet, the heat from Dean closing around his fingers was a caress of sensation that was desire made manifest. The curse Sam was under was slowly reducing him to his basest senses. Was it any wonder he could be distracted by them?

    Almost as if in silent answer, he felt the sweet pull in his groin.  _She_  was calling him again. Sam opened his eyes and inched his fingers forward. Soon, Sam was caressing jagged metal. Quickly Sam hooked a finger over the keys and then began to ease them back out of Dean’s pocket.

    “Sam,” Dean’s voice was as tight, sudden and firm as the grip that clenched Sam’s wrist, “Bro, what do ya think you’re doing?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL My chapters used to be shorter back then.

Sam moved on instinct and jerked his hand and body backward. Dean moved just as instinctually and let Sam’s momentum aid in lifting him up, carrying him forward and crashing into Sam.

The brothers slammed together; as always the immovable object meeting the unstoppable force.

“Let me go, Dean,” Sam pleaded.

“To  _her_?” Dean growled. “Not gonna happen.”

“You know it’s the only way.” Sam maneuvered his left foot behind Dean’s right leg and swept upwards, using his lean strength and the extra leverage from his superior height to throw his brother. Dean’s left hand quickly reached up and grabbed a handful of Sam’s thick brown hair.  _Where the head goes_ , Dean mentally recited as gravity took hold,  _the body must follow_.

“No...UMPH!” Dean grunted as he landed on the floor with Sam on top of him. Sam lost hold of the keys at the surprise move and impact.  Dean knew he had the advantage in a ground fight. Dean had the superior weight and lower center of gravity with his shorter height.  _Tactical mistake, little brother_ , Dean thought.

“No,” Dean repeated as he rolled with his right hand firmly tangled in Sam’s hair and his legs snaking around Sam’s waist. “I don’t know it’s the only way.”

Sam launched a roundhouse punch towards Dean’s face. Dean blocked the punch with his left arm and let his weight settle on Sam’s upper thighs. For a brief moment, Sam froze, his eyes widened and he couldn’t draw air into his lungs fast enough.

 _Fuck! Dean!_   Heat flared through Sam and where the desire for  _her_  had been a red flame, the heat from Dean touching Sam so close to his center of need was a pure blue flare of scorching heat.

Sam began to violently arch and buck underneath Dean. He wasn’t sure whether it was an attempt free to himself or if it had a darker purpose he couldn’t acknowledge.

“Oh god, Dean!” Sam exclaimed somewhere between a moan and a plea. “Please let me go.”

“Sammy,” Dean said in a voice gruff with exhaustion, fear, and unshed tears, “if I let you go…if you go to that  _bitch_  you will  _die_.”

“I don’t care!” Sam screamed as he stopped bucking and tried to launch another desperate flurry of punches to Dean’s face.

Dean kept his weight on Sam’s legs and pulled his knees tight against Sam locking his lower body as best he could into place. Dean had wrestled with his brother too many times not to know how quickly Sam could get the upper hand if he got his long legs up and round Dean’s neck. Sam got one solid punch across Dean’s left check before Dean was able to counter and then grab Sam’s wrists.

“I DO!” Dean snarled as he jerked Sam’s hands down in front of him and pinned them on top of Sam’s stomach.

Sam groaned.  _Oh god! Too close! His hands; his fingers were too close to Dean’s heat!_ Memories of his study of Dean while he slept flashed through Sam’s mind and the desire threatened to choke him.

Dean felt Sam still underneath him. His brother’s sweat-slicked hair was sticking to his forehead and his breathing was fast. Dean was reminded of when Sam was little and had had night terrors. Dean would find him with the same sweat-soaked hair and heaving chest. Then Dean could make it all better with a glass of water, a brush of fingers to smooth the hair away and a knock-knock joke.

Dean wasn’t a college boy, but he didn’t have to be to know they were long past water and knock-knock jokes. Hell, even if he was half as slow on the uptake as Sam thought he was, the tell-tale bulge in Sam’s jeans which had only increased during their fight, was enough to let Dean know they were well past knock-knocks and had streaked past “Letters to Penthouse.”

“Please,” Sam said softly and he looked at Dean with hazel eyes full of terror and need. “Please, Dean, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sam,” Dean replied softly, “and you know I can’t just let you go.”

“You could. I could go and it would be over.”

“Is that what you want? You really want to die?”

“I just want this to stop. It’s only going to get worse. If I go now…” Sam couldn’t finish. He couldn’t articulate the possibilities that might happen if he was forced to stay.

“Jess is dead,” Sam started again. “Without her there’s no hope this ends.”

Dean inwardly flinched.  _Why the fuck did it always come back to Jess?_  Yeah, he thought, she had seemed like a nice girl. Yeah, she had been hot too. And yeah, Sam had loved her, but how long was Sam going to suffer from her death? How long would he be tormented by it?

“Is that what you want me to tell Dad?” Dean asked.

Sam gave a bitter laugh. “Dad would have to care enough to return a call before you could tell him anything.”

“Don’t you say…,” Dean unconsciously leaned forward as he started the automatic defense of John Winchester. Sam seized the opportunity and snaked a long leg up around and in front of Dean, pressing him back.

Dean fell backward, his hands releasing Sam’s wrists. However, Dean managed to rewrap his legs around Sam’s waist keeping him close. Now it was Dean who was flat on his back again with Sam on top. Once again Dean felt the firm feel of Sam’s length pressing against him. Sam’s hands pinned Dean’s shoulders to the floor. Dean looked up at Sam to see just how much control Sam really had.

Red and blue flames collided in Sam and he looked down to see Dean’s hazel-green eyes staring up at him with unasked questions.

“Dean,” Sam whispered, caught between two desires and being torn apart by the consequences of giving in to either.

From the moment that terrible night twenty-two years ago when their father had placed baby Sam into four-year-old Dean’s arms and ordered him to get Sam out of the burning house, Dean had always taken care of his brother. Whatever the situation, whatever the cost, Dean put Sam first. It wasn’t just because his father had trusted him with the precious life; it was because in those terrifying moments Sam had looked at Dean and somehow Dean knew  _Sam_  trusted Dean. The fact was simple: Dean loved Sam without reservation, question or condition. So if the hard calls had to be made, Dean would make them.

“I’m sorry Sammy,” Dean whispered and then before Sam could react Dean crossed his wrists in front of Sam’s neck, grabbed the back of his collar and squeezed, cutting off the blood flow in the carotid arteries to Sam’s brain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me? Introducing a completely original character this chap.

Sam had little time to struggle before his blood-starved brain lost consciousnesses. Sammy’s eyes seemed to blaze almost entirely green for a moment then rolled back in his head. His limp body collapsed on top of Dean.

Quickly Dean relaxed his chokehold on Sam’s neck. He wanted Sam unconscious, not brain-dead. As swiftly as he could Dean rolled Sam over and stood up. Dean knew he didn’t have long before Sam would come to again. 

Dean surveyed the room again looking at his options for securing his brother.  _Shoulda known the ropes wouldn’t hold him_ , Dean chastised himself. The hotel room was old and cheap. Any of the towel racks Sam could just pull right out of the wall and most of the furniture Sam could probably break. Dean looked at the bed. It didn’t have a headboard, but Dean very knew that didn’t mean it couldn’t be used to secure a person to it.

After a quick check to see if Sam was still out and breathing ok, Dean went back to the bed and lifted up the corner of the bedding. Just as he suspected; the mattress was seated in a metal frame.  _Bambi_ , Dean thought,  _where ever you are darling thank you once again for showing me this trick._  Dean moved to the front of the bed, got a firm grip on the mattress set and shoved it toward the end of the bed. This left the box-spring resting on just the farthest edge of the lower lip of the bed frame.

Dean started unbuckling his belt and removing it from his jeans. The belt was off before he reached his bag perched on the dresser along the far wall. Dean began to rummage through his bag. With almost a jubilant flourish he pulled out a pair of handcuffs.  Any other time Dean might have reflected on how surprisingly handy they were in both impersonating law enforcement and picking up women.

A quick toss sent the belt flying to land on the bed as Dean marched back over to Sam’s still unmoving form. As gently as he could Dean secured the handcuffs around Sam’s wrists.  _Now comes the fun part_ , Dean grimaced. Dean bent down over Sam’s body, wrapped his arms under Sam’s shoulders, lifted Sam into a seated position and then finally hefted him up into a fireman’s carry.

“Umph!” Dean grunted. “Little brother no matter what the song says you are  _definitely_  heavy.”

Dean shuffled over to the bed and laid Sam down as softly as he could in the middle of the bed. Sam was starting to fidget but he was still unconscious. As quick as it was possible, without hurting Sam, Dean maneuvered Sam’s body so that his handcuffed hands were at the very edge of the head of the mattress. Then Dean grabbed his belt, ran it under the cuffs, worked it so it was threaded under the metal frame of the bed and then looped it back through the buckle. Dean pulled so the belt was as tight as he could make it and buckled the belt completely in the snuggest hole.

Sam would have no way to lift his arms or have enough slack to even sit upright. He could try to buck up with his legs but only the wall was behind the bed so there was nowhere to go. Sam would even be at an awkward angle to try and get the belt to slide so he could get to the edge of the bed. Dean sighed. It was the best he could right now.

Dean took a moment to look at his brother. Sam was beginning to stir. Dean brushed the hair from Sam’s forehead.  _Fuck Sammy, what are we going to do?_

A sticky wet sensation on Dean’s chest interrupted Dean’s thoughts. He looked down to see blood splats on his shirt. With a start, Dean looked back at Sam frantically to see where he was cut. Clear hazel eyes looked up at him.

“Dude,” Sam whispered, “your nose is bleeding.”

Dean smiled with relief, Sam must have pegged him in the nose during their fight and Dean hadn’t even noticed. “Yeah. Wonder whose fault that is?”

Sam didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head back to examine the new restraints. Sam tested his bonds by tugging and yanking. He wasn’t getting out of the situation as easily as he had the ropes. Sam looked back at his brother. Dean was trying to mop up the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand.

“You should go put some ice on it.”

“Not leaving you, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.” Then Sam arched a brow. “Well at least go put a cold wet rag on it.”

“Cluck, cluck, cluck,” Dean chuckled.

Sam smiled. He almost felt himself, well except for being tied up on a hotel bed by his big brother. Sam didn’t even want to speculate where Dean had learned this trick. It wasn’t from John Winchester.

“You ok?” Dean asked, still mopping up blood.

“I think. For the moment anyway. Maybe cutting off blood to the brain nixes the hex?”

“Yeah, well I think usually that would be called death.”

Sam wiggled his wrists. “You think while I’m feeling ok you can undo these?”

“Not a chance. I don’t know when you are going to go all horndog on me again.”

Dean mentally kicked himself at Sam’s wince. Dean sighed and moved away from the bed. He stopped and picked up the keys from the floor and shoved them back into his pocket. “Besides, I gotta go put a ‘cold wet rag’ on my nose.”

Sam nodded.

“Look, try and get some rest while you can,” Dean said as he reached the bathroom door. “Or at least think about our options.”

“We don’t have any.”

“Hey!” Dean barked. “I don’t accept that. There are always options.”

Dean locked gazes with Sam until Sam sighed and turned his face away. Then Dean went into the bathroom and shut the door.  He turned to look in the mirror.

“Please, God,” Dean whispered. “Let there be options.”

Dean moved over to the sink and stripped off his blood-spattered shirt letting it fall to the floor. Next Dean grabbed a washcloth, turned on the cold water, soaked the rag, wrung it out and then wiped the blood from his face. Once again he ran the rag under the water. Pink water swirled down the drain. Dean wrung the cloth out again, turned off the water and held the cold rag to his nose.

He knew he should go out and check on Sammy but the adrenaline rush was starting to give out and Dean began to feel the pain from fighting with Sam; emotional and physical. Dean slid down to the floor and shifted so his back was against the bathtub. Dean tilted his head and let the blood from his nose drip down the back of his throat.

This latest run of bad luck for the Winchester brothers had started in the most picturesque of places, West Virginia. Specifically, they had gone to Greenbrier County, West Virginia to investigate a series of random disappearances of men.

There wasn’t much remarkable about Greenbrier. Median income was $26, 927 and median age was 41. Sam had looked it up. The biggest thing going for the folks in Greenbrier, besides farming, was tourism. They had the Greenbrier County Convention and Visitor’s Bureau “for all your vacation needs,” the Greenbrier Resort, and the Durbin & Greenbrier Valley Railroad. The most remarkable thing for the Winchesters had been Sam accidentally cutting his thumb while paying for gas at the local Chug and Go.

Still, there had been a disturbing pattern of men who had visited the area disappearing anywhere from seven to ten days after leaving. So the brothers had gone and booked a room in Rainelle, West Virginia; population 1,545. It was cheaper than trying to stay where all the tourists were and had a much better honky-tonk bar.

At first, they were hitting dead end after dead end. None of the men seemed to have anything in common. They didn’t stay in the same places, visit the same places, come from similar backgrounds, and weren’t even the same ages.

“There’s nothing!” Sam had groused on their fifth evening. “I’ve been going through every newspaper clipping, Google result, and Dad’s journal and nothing! I need a drink.”

That should have been Dean’s first clue something was wrong.

“Come on Sam, there’s always  _something_.” Dean had soothed.

“I think we are chasing…well, shadows or something. People disappear all the time.”

“Yeah but Sam, fifteen disappearances in the last three years, approximately a week after they visited po-dunk West Virginia and you think that’s not one of ours?”

Sam had flipped John Winchester’s journal shut and rubbed his eyes.

“Ok,” Sam had conceded. “Yeah. I’m just frustrated. Maybe I just need to get out for a bit.”

Dean had grinned. He too had felt claustrophobic in their latest hotel room. It was so shabby that the phrase “better days” had had no meaning there.  Still, it had met the Winchester standards; cheap and clean.

“Then by all means little brother, let’s go out,” Dean had all but purred. There was always one beauty in every honky-tonk bar and he’d thought it was his chance to find Rainelle’s.

Sam had laughed and agreed. The night passed pleasantly enough. Dean had been right; there was a beauty. Only he missed his chance because had Sam moved in on her! Dean had stood with his mouth literally hanging open when, as soon as they entered the bar, his brother turned into someone he hadn’t recognized. It was as if Sam had been studying Dean’s moves and that night was qualifying exams. Soon the little Rainelle bloom had been ready to follow Sam anywhere.

Dean had been set to sleep in the Impala when the second surprise of the night happened; the old Sam came back.

“Dean, let’s go,” Sam had come over to Dean with a look of desperation in his eyes.

“What?”

“Let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”

“What about…” Dean had pointed to the blonde by the bar still smiling and looking Sam’s way.

“It’s a mistake.”

“Oh yeah,” Dean had grinned. “My favorite kind of mistake!”

“Dean!”

Dean had focused back on Sam. His brother was sweating and looked nervous.

“What’s wrong Sam?”

“I just. I have to go. This isn’t right.”

“Is this about Jess?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“No! Yes! I don’t know! Look I’m going!” Then Sam had stormed out. Dean had quickly thrown a twenty down on the table to cover his beers and had followed his brother.

“Sam!” Dean had shouted once they were outside. “Ok. We’ll go back to the hotel.”

Sam had paused before getting in the Impala, nodded and then got in the car. The trip back had mostly been silent.

“I don’t know what happened,” Sam had broken the silence first. “I got in there, I saw her and I just wanted. You know?”

Dean had nodded. He hadn’t risked talking in fear Sam would stop.

“But then later I realized it wasn’t  _her_  I wanted.”

Dean had frowned.

“Who did you want?” Dean had taken a chance.

“I don’t know,” Sam had bleated.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t Jess. It wasn’t Mandy, the blonde. I…I want someone else.”

Dean had briefly looked away from the road to look at Sam. He was still sweaty and nervous looking.

“Sam, are you ok?”

“I still  _want_  Dean.”

“Ooook. Do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe look for a redhead?”

“No!” Sam had shouted and looked at his brother. “You’re not listening. I want somebody…but a specific somebody. Somebody I don’t know.”

That’s when the first chill had gone down Dean’s spine. Something, their kind of something, was wrong with Sam.

“How ba…”

“Don’t ask,” Sam had interrupted. “Just give me some alone time when we get back to the hotel room.”

Dean had given Sam the alone time; a whole hour’s worth of alone time. When he had finally gone into the room; Sam was in bed trying to pretend he was asleep. Dean hadn’t interrupted his brother’s pretense and went to bed. The next morning Dean had woken to find Sam gone. In a panic, Dean had rushed out of the hotel room. He’d spotted Sam walking up the road. He had jogged to catch up to him.

“Bro, where you going?” Dean had asked gently.

“To find  _her_ ,” Sam had responded in a dead voice.

“To find who, Sammy?

“ _HER.”_

Dean had grabbed Sam’s arm then and forced his brother to stop.

“Sam!”

Sam had blinked a few moments then looked at Dean with wide eyes.

“Dean, what’s going on?”

“I’d hoped you could tell me, little brother. I wake up and find you out wandering the streets looking for your mystery hook-up.”

Sam had groaned. “Dean it’s getting worse.”

Dean had frowned. “Need more alone time?”

“Doesn’t help,” Sam had blushed.

“Well look, I don’t think running after this woman is good right now either. Let’s go back to the hotel, grab dad’s journal and then head to the local diner for breakfast. Maybe a strong cup of coffee and a mass of grits will…well, at least not hurt any.”

Sam had smiled. At the local diner had been where they had met Granny Mitchum and Granny Mitchum had known what was going on with Sam.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How far will Dean go to save Sam?

The waitress had just brought Sam’s scrambled eggs and toast along with Dean’s “All American Morning Combo” when Granny Mitchum slid into the booth next to Dean. The Winchester’s had never met Granny Mitchum, let alone heard of her, but that hadn’t stopped her from stealing a slice of bacon from Dean’s plate and signaling the waitress to bring over another cup of coffee.

“Excuse me…” Dean had started to say. 

“We’ll need some more cream, sugah,” Granny had told the waitress who had brought over a fresh cup of coffee. Then Granny had turned a piercing gaze at Sam. 

“You in trouble son.”

Sam had cast a look at Dean. Dean had shifted to the side so he could get a better look at the odd woman who’d just barged into their breakfast and apparently into their problem. The woman was that indeterminate “old.” She wasn’t frail but her youth was far behind her. She was big boned and her flesh hung off her arms and face in a way that spoke that she’d been well toned once or pleasantly plump. The woman wore large black-framed glasses that matched whatever shade of bottle she used to dye her hair.  

Granny had sat, munched on her purloined bacon and sipped her coffee while Dean assessed her.

“Didn’t your mama teach ya it was impolite to stare?” Granny had asked after she chewing the last of the bacon strip. 

“As a matter of fact she didn’t,” Dean had replied.

“Can we help you, uh…,” Sam had tried to interject. 

“Now there’s one with some manners. Too bad it’s him that’s in trouble,” Granny pointed a look towards Dean then looked back at Sam. “Most folks ‘round here call me Granny Mitchum. My house could use a good paintin’ if that was your meanin’ on helpin’ but I ‘spect you won’t be ‘round long enough ta see ta that.”

Dean had stiffened. He was getting that cold chill done his spine again. 

“What do you mean by that?” Dean had let a lot of that chill creep into his voice.

“Son, you better settle down and let me talk. Ya ain’t ta old for me ta take a switch ta ya!” 

“Mrs. Mitchum,” Sam had once again interjected trying to smooth the situation and Granny.   
  
“Just Granny will do.” 

“What do you mean?”

Granny had sighed.  

“I woke up this morning and I had a powerful hankerin' for pancakes. Now, normally that’s just too much sugah fer me in the mornings but this morning I just had ta have ‘em. So, I said ta myself, ‘Granny, sumthins up,’” Granny paused to take another sip of her coffee. “So, I got up and came in ta Mytle’s here and had me some pancakes. She really needs ta add more vanilla ta the batter if you ask me. Anyway, I had finished my pancakes when you boys walked in and then I knew.”

Granny Mitchum had stopped and started to drink her coffee again. After a few sips she had put the cup down and waived over the waitress with the coffee pot.  
  
“Just a swaller more, darlin'. Thank ya.” 

After the waitress topped off the cup, Granny had sat back and begun to fold and refold Dean’s napkin. 

Dean and Sam stared and each other. Finally, Dean said, “Knew what?”

“Ain’t ya all goin' ta introduce yerselves?” 

“Of course," Sam had replied, once again the diplomat. “I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean.”

“Ah, brothers. Now I see it. I was confused. When you first walked in I thought you were one of them ah ‘modern couples.’” 

Dean had choked on his coffee. Sam had fidgeted in his chair.

“However, brothers would explain the close connection twixt the two of ya.” 

“Ma’am,” Dean tried for a respectful tone, “what is that you th… you know?”

“Well, I know Sam here’s got a powerful itch in his pants he can’t scratch."

It had been Sam’s turn to choke on his coffee.

“I’m listening,” Dean had said much more seriously. 

“Around these parts there’s a legend we don’t talk much about; the Greenbrier Witch.” Dean and Sam cast a look at each other. “Now I don’t mean a witch in the new-fangled sense where some one’s gonna scream religious persecution and such nonsense. I mean in the old sense of someone, in this case, a woman, who knows the arts. Arts and traditions that can be used for good or ill. And the Greenbrier Witch, why she is a wicked one. Some say she’s human still, others say she’s passed on to the spirit realm, but all say she’s done dealt with the black dog himself.”

“Black dog?” Dean had asked.   
  
“Another name for the devil,” Sam had explained.

“Not only the polite one but the smart one too,” Granny had shaken her head. “Such a shame. Anyway, the Greenbrier Witch needs to keep herself in lovers. Some say she needs to take ‘em to keep herself young and others say she collects their souls when they die. Keeps ‘em in a jar so she never gets lonely. Whatever the case, she’s marked Sam here as her next lover and that itch he’s got is gonna grow and grow until he goes to her. And when he does, whatever fate she marked for her other lovers, he’s gonna share.” 

“How do you know this?” Dean had snapped partly in fear and partly in frustration.

“I’m Granny Mitchum and I’m about thirty seconds from gettin' that switch!” Granny had glared at Dean. “Now I’m here tryin' ta do what I can fer ya boys. I know things and I’m telling ya what I know.” 

“The other men, the ones who went missing. This is what happened to them?” Sam had asked.

Granny had cocked an eyebrow and then nodded. 

“How do we break the curse?”

“It’s a hex. And it’s simple really…ya just need a lover’s touch.” Granny had then looked at Sam. Sam couldn’t hide the look of pain. “There’s the rub init? Ya lost yer love haven’t ya, Sam?” 

Sam had nodded.

“Recently I bet?” 

Sam had nodded again. 

“If ya look carefully at all the other men who done gone missin I’ll bet you’ll find the same. All the men hexed by the witch had all lost the one thing that coulda saved ‘em; the touch of a lover.”

“Hey,” Dean had tried to interject. “A lover’s touch? We can do that. Sam, we can find some…” 

“Boy, I’m beginning to think I need to tan yer hide just on principle. A lover’s touch isn’t sumthin' ya can just go out and  _find_  like a two dollar cheesburger!  If ya can’t understand that then yer thicker than I first thought ya were!”

“Hey!” Dean had growled. 

“Where can we find this witch?” Sam asked before Dean could start in on a tirade.

“Son, ya don’t want ta find her. You find her and yer dead. The closer you get ta her, the more powerful her spell on ya is goin’ ta be and the more you’ll do ta be with her and fer her. ‘Sides, I ain’t never been able ta figure out who she is. None of them marked ones was around long enough or helpful long enough, fer me ta figure it out. ”

“You must know something,” Dean had said.

“I do,” Granny had said. “And I’m tellin’ ya what I know. Sam’s hexed and the only thing that will break it is a lover’s touch. I wish I could do more. I really do. You ask around. Folks will tell ya, most times when sumthins up, a spirit gets too uppity or cow’s milk's gone sour, call Granny Mitchum. But I’ve tried everything; burning sage, cookin' a speckled hen’s feathers in lard for a poultice, and weaving' a witch’s ladder with lavender and garlic. I even tried recitin’ the Lord’s Prayer while sweepin' with a cinnamon broom behind one young feller. Ain’t nuthin’ worked.” 

“How did you even know I was ‘hexed,’” Sam had asked.

“I can see it, Sam. It’s like the cancer’s done eatin' a way at yer shining. I know what it means. I’ve seen it before.” 

Granny then had drained her cup and slid back out of the booth.

“That’s it?” Dean had asked incredulously. “That’s all. Sam’s hexed. He’s going to eventually get so …so  _needy_  for this witch he’s going to go to her and die? That’s all you got to say?” 

Granny had nodded. “Do what you boys think you gotta do to make peace with what’s happenin’ but make it soon. Sam’s only goin' ta get worse. I wish I had sumthin' more fer ya.”

Then Granny had pulled out a twenty dollar bill and some ones from her purse and laid them on the table.  She had turned as if to go, and then paused. She leaned over and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“ _If_  ya find a way ta save your brother, Dean, come back and see me. Myrtle will tell ya how ta find me.”

Dean had looked into Granny’s eyes then. He had really looked and in their tobacco brown depths, he had seen she was trying to tell him something; something she didn’t want to say and something he  _knew_ he didn’t want to hear. A third chill had run down his spine.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean...Dean...Dean

Dean leaned his head forward and continued his mental rehash of current events. It was two days and two towns since the morning Granny Mitchum had bought them breakfast. Sam and Dean had verified as much as they could before they left town; Dean hoping the distance would buy them more time. That had only led to Sammy trying to take the wheel one day in a desire spun fugue. That’s when Dean had decided they should hole up. 

Sam had discovered the missing men had lost loves and Dean had discovered Granny Mitchum’s reputation checked out. She was the local “wise woman” and as far as he could tell she was one of the good guys.

It didn’t take long for Sam to be less and less involved with trying to find out who the witch was and how to break the hex. Sam had become more and more fixated on just going to the witch. His desire had been painfully obvious to Dean and just painful to Sam. 

Dean had called Dad. He’d called him several times only to get that same damned message.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered and stood up. He made his way over to the sink and rinsed out the washcloth. Once again he wiped at his nose, which had now stopped bleeding. Dean looked at his reflection in the mirror. There were blood smears on his chest from where the blood had soaked through his shirt. The stains were stark and accusatory. Thoughts of Cain from the Bible flittered through Dean’s mind. Jerkily he rubbed the rag across his chest until the red blood was replaced with reddened skin.  

“ _Do what you boys think you gotta do to make peace with what’s happenin’ but make it soon._ ” Granny Micthum’s voice haunted Dean. “ _If ya find a way ta save your brother…all lost the one thing that coulda saved ‘em; the touch of a lover._ ”

Dean threw the rag down in the sink and turned his back on the mirror. Memories of Sam’s length pressing against Dean followed in time to Granny’s words. “ _If ya find a way ta save your brother….”_

“I can’t, Sammy,” Dean whispered but the chill in his spine answered he could. Dean could if he had to.

“ _A lover’s touch isn’t sumthin ya can just go out and find like a two dollar cheesburger!  If ya can’t understand that then yer thicker than I first thought ya were!”_  

Oh, Dean was beginning to understand and he was afraid just how far his understanding was going to have to go. Despite what Granny Mitchum had said, Dean had convinced Sam to try another honky-tonk and another girl. The evening ended with a confused brunette, Sam a half mile out of town before had Dean caught up with him, and a sedative to put Sam to sleep. Attempting to be with the brunette had only seemed to further drive Sammy toward the Witch.

However, during the evening's fight, Sam had arched and bucked under Dean, and not just to get away. Sam had stared down at Dean with desire. Dean had felt Sam’s it.

 _“…the one thing that coulda saved ‘em; the touch of a lover,”_ echoed again through Dean’s head. A lover was someone who cared; who cared more than just about sex. It was about touching and sharing. It was the physical expression of emotional intimacy. Just because Dean wasn’t good with emotional intimacy didn’t mean he didn’t understand about love or lovers. Dean also understood; Dean loved Sam.

 _But Sam!_  Dean groaned. This would be wrong. The kind of wrong there was no going back from for either brother. But then again was it more wrong then a witch who preyed on heartbroken men? Was it more wrong than demons who slaughtered young mothers over their infants’ cribs?  On the scale of wrong would this even tip the balance at all?

I can’t be thinking this, Dean thought. I don’t’ know if it would even break the hex.  

 _“Please, Dean, I can’t do this anymore,”_  Sam’s plea joined the other echoes in Dean’s head.

Dean hung his head in his hands. He wondered if it was even possible for him to do this. Yeah, he knew the mechanics. There was that one girl, Cyndi, who spent the better part of an evening trying to get him to agree to do a threesome with her and her boyfriend. She was cute, funny and apparently in an open relationship. Out of curiosity, and a hope to score, he’d listened to her tales and asked about how it worked between two guys. She’d gotten hot going into great detail. In the end, he declined the offer of a threesome but not the offer to take her home. Dean had even decided not to dwell on why the closet door was open just a crack or whether or not that little tidbit made the encounter that much sweeter. 

Would Sam even agree to do this? Dean asked himself. Does it matter? He answered. Sam was too far gone. And while things like Latin and Math had come easily to Sam; Sex and Seduction were Dean’s natural gifts. Sam had a desire; spell induced, but desire none the less.

“ _Do what you boys think you gotta do to make peace with what’s happenin’ but make it soon._ ” 

Dean swiped his hand over his face one last time.  _There are always options_ , he had told Sam and Dean had meant it. If this was the only option besides letting some backwoods hokum-pockum witch-bitch take his Sammy then so be it. Let the fates, the angels, or God condemn him. He’d take it with a smile. Dean could do this to save Sam. Dean would even take Sam’s loathing in the end if that was the price.

Dean took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. Dean stepped into the other room. Sam was still stretched out on the bed. His eyes were closed. With a confidence, Dean didn’t entirely feel he once again walked to his bag. This time he pulled out a little tin foil square and a small tube of lube he used for those occasions when  _he_  needed some alone time. He stuffed the items in his pockets and turned to face Sam. 

Dean leaned back against the dresser and took a moment to just study Sam. He wanted to just look at Sam as a man. There was no doubt Sam was handsome. While Dean had a shorter more solid frame; Sam was tall and lean like a swimmer. His hair was longer and Dean knew how silky soft it was. Now, for the first time, Dean let himself wonder what it would feel like to run his hand through that hair; to bury his face in it and to rub it against his throat.

The thought of Sam’s throat drew Dean’s attention to it. Sam’s Adam’s apple was more pronounced than Dean’s. Cyndi had said her boyfriend liked to have his nibbled and sucked. Dean once again let himself wonder. Dean wondered what it would be like to gently lick up from the hollow spot just under the apple and then close his mouth in a gentle but consuming kiss over it as if he were going to bite a delicate piece of fruit. 

To Dean’s amazement, he found his wondering was having an effect. He wasn’t at a full salute, but he could work with his current "passing fancy."

Dean moved forward and over to the bed. Gently he eased himself onto the foot of the bed into a crawl position and with well-practiced ease he began to crawl up Sam’s body.

Sam’s eyes flew open. He wasn’t alone on the bed. He looked down to see Dean crawling up his body like some great cat on the prowl.  

“Dean?”

Dean continued to crawl until he was face to face with Sam. The two brothers were so close Sam could feel the heat coming from Dean’s bare chest. It ignited the slumbering burn inside of him. Sam felt his cock swell.  _Oh God, Dean!_  

Sam’s pupils grew dilated and he breathed in deep. The heat and the smell of his brother were fused into one and blazing around him. A thin line of sweat began to bead on Sam’s upper brow.

Dean could tell the moment the desire began to fire within Sam. Sam’s hazel eyes seemed to turn a bit more to the green side. Dean saw the thin line of sweat on Sam’s lip. He wondered what it would be like to let the tip of his tongue trace that line and then dip in between those lips.  

 _In for a penny…,_  Dean thought as he lowered his head, stopped wondering and began finding out. Dean groaned. The taste of Sam was intoxicating. Perhaps forbidden fruit was the best. He let his tongue sample the thin line along Sam’s lip and then he let it dip into Sam’s open mouth for sweeter treasures.

Sam arched in agonizingly sweet pleasure the moment Dean’s tongue swept into his mouth and began a gentle exploration of his upper palate. Sam wanted to ask Dean what was going on; why was he doing this but instead he opened his mouth wider inviting Dean to explore more. 

Dean accepted the invitation and closed his lips over Sam’s.   _Sweet Je…._ Dean couldn’t finish his thought. He was consumed by the need to ravish Sam’s mouth. He rolled his tongue over Sam’s while his lips marveled at how soft Sam’s were. Over and over Dean swept his tongue around Sam’s creating a friction and a pace; setting up a promise.

Sam was burning. Red flames licked through him at his root but where Dean was devouring him was a blue inferno. For the first time in days, Sam needed something more than  _her_  and this new need was no less intense. 

Reluctantly Dean lifted his mouth away from Sam’s and drew in some much-needed air. He looked down at his brother. Sam was a man gripped by desire, and his eyes were completely focused on Dean. Dean smiled.

Dean’s smile brought a moment of sanity to Sam.  _This was Dean!_  

”What…?” Sam started to ask.

“It’s all I got, Sammy,” Dean answered before the question was finished. Right or wrong, yes or no, Dean wasn’t going back. He knew by Sam’s response this might work and Dean was going to gamble it all.  

“Dean…”

“Shhh, Sam,” Dean said as he leaned in for another kiss. Once again Dean ravished Sam’s mouth; tasting and tormenting until Sam was struggling against the cuffs in a need to pull Dean closer. 

Dean chuckled and began nibbling his way from Sam’s lips down to Sam’s throat. Dean smiled against a pulse point. He could feel Sam’s heartbeat fluttering there like a leaf in a windstorm. Dean leaned down further and suckled in the hollow of Sam’s throat.

The suckling at Sam’s throat was sending signals straight to Sam’s cock. Sam was burning alive. Everywhere Dean touched him was a blue flame and it was searing him. The pull to go to  _her_  was there but Dean was  _here_  and Sam wanted that presence to consume him no matter how wrong it was.  

Dean’s talented tongue started swirling circles in that hollow that fascinated him. Sam moaned and when Dean started to lick a trail up to that adorable apple Sam’s held his breath only to let it out in stuttering gasps as Dean started to nibble that same treat.

Sam wasn’t the only one on fire. Dean felt himself grow harder with each sound and squirm Sam made. The taste and feel of Sam were drowning him and Dean only wanted more; perhaps from now on, he’d always want more.  

Dean moved back up for another kiss. This time he gently sucked on Sam’s upper lip before mapping Sam’s mouth with his tongue. Dean frowned when he felt the jagged tear on Sam’s lower lip from where he’d bitten it earlier. Dean caught Sam’s gaze and then ever so softly sucked the bruised flesh into his own mouth.   Dean caressed Sam’s bottom lip with gentle little sucking motions. Dean never broke eye contact.

Sam was lost. He didn’t know whether to move, to groan, or to try and return the kiss. Sam just felt.  

As gently as Dean had captured the wounded lip, he let it go. Then he began his assault of tiny kisses down Sam’s jaw and over to his ear. Dean took a moment to nuzzle his face in Sam’s hair. It was soft and silky and Dean couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like nestled between his thighs as Sam blew him.

Sam heard Dean’s groan and answered in kind.  _What the hell was happening between them? How could it be this achingly good when it had to be so very, very wrong?_

Dean stopped his nuzzling and pulled back. He needed more. He looked down at Sam. There was too much between them. Briefly, Dean thought about undoing the cuffs, but he still wasn’t sure Sam wouldn’t still try and run.  

Dean settled back from his hands and knees position over Sam and straddled him instead.

 _Fire! Need! DEAN!_ Sam arched up underneath Dean trying to press his rock hard length against Dean’s denim-clad ass. 

“Shhhh,” Dean whispered again as he lay a gentling hand on Sam’s chest. Sam settled back down on the bed and looked at Dean.

Dean smiled as Sam tried to relax and control his breathing. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his key set; the start of all the evening’s madness. Attached to the key set was a flip knife. Dean flipped it open and grabbed the bottom hem of Sam’s shirt. 

“Hold very still, Sammy,” Dean ordered. Then with tortuously slow and precise movements, he began slicing a line up from the bottom of Sam’s shirt to the collar.

Sam desperately wanted to rub against Dean. He needed to move. He needed friction for release, but Dean had ordered him not to move. Sam lay motionless as he watched his brother slice a line rending his shirt. 

When the collar finally gave way, Dean flipped the knife closed and tossed the keys to the side of the bed. Then he grabbed the edges of the now torn shirt and ripped them apart baring the lean muscled chest to Dean’s hungry gaze.

“I hope that wasn’t your favorite shirt,’ Dean said as he leaned forward and began to map out a new playground for his tongue.  

When Dean drove his tongue into Sam’s belly button a line of pure electric desire flared straight to the tip of Sam’s cock. Sam screamed in frustration and yanked on the cuffs. Dean chuckled.  _Bet you’re not thinking of that bitch now are you?_

Over and over Dean lapped at Sam’s belly button. Dean wanted to fill it up with all sorts of treats; chocolate, whip cream, and whiskey. Dean wanted to make a picnic out of lapping at Sam’s little button for the taste and the delightful sounds Sam was making. 

“Oh God! Dean! God…please!”

Dean withdrew from Sam’s belly button. “I don’t think God has much to do with this, Sam.” 

Dean leaned back down and let his tongue make a trail from the abused belly button up to Sam’s right nipple.  _Time to let the teeth play!_ Dean swirled his tongue around once, twice and after the third swipe when the nipple was firm and round Dean bit down.

“DEAN!” Sam screamed. Sam twisted and moaned. He closed his eyes; sight being one too many senses for his overwhelmed brain to process. Sam was lost somewhere between pleasure and pain from the wanting slamming through him. Red fire and blue fire were dancing inside of him. It was a battle of  _her_  versus Dean; Sam was collateral damage. 

Dean suckled on the abused nipple; kissing and soothing where he had caused pain. Then Dean let his tongue slide over to the left nipple and gave equal treatment to the dusty bud.

This time Sam’s scream was inarticulate. Dean soothed the left nipple and then let his hands trace the muscles over Sam's chest. He felt like he was caressing sun warmed silk stretched over smooth steel. Dean liked women. Dean liked the curve and softness of women, but the feel of so much strength writhing beneath him was making him harder than any curve.  

Over and over Dean let his hand wander and then lower and lower until they were dancing at the waistband of Sam’s jeans. All the while, Sam panted, twisted and made little mewling noises of desire. Dean brushed over the waistband and down along the bulging fly to where Sam’s straining cock was trying to tent the tight fabric.

Dean settled back into a straddle position over the top of Sam’s legs. He smiled; they’d come full circle. Dean paused for a minute to give Sam a chance to calm down. 

Slowly Sam came down from his sensual haze. Sam realized Dean had stopped touching him and was just straddling him. Though, Dean wasn’t straddling him where Sam needed him. Sam took a few deep breaths and then opened his eyes to look at his brother.

Dean smiled. “Watch me, Sammy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it hot in here?

_Oh, God!_ Sam thought then lifted his head and looked to where his brother straddled him. Need was rushing through him like a forest fire out of control and his eyes were smoked over with the lust at war within him, but somehow Sam managed to focus on Dean.

Dean smiled when he saw he had Sam’s attention. Then very delicately, and very slowly, he began to unbutton each button of Sam’s fly.

Sam groaned. Sam had seen Dean use his hands with cool efficiency and grace to clean guns, sharpen knives and even whittle a stake or two. Now, all of that deadly focus was on him. Dean wasn’t just undoing Sam’s fly; Dean was unwrapping him!

Once Dean had the buttons pushed through their holes, he paused a moment. He was getting close to unveiling the most intimate part of Sammy. Oh, Dean had seen Sam nude before. He’d even seen his dick before; they were brothers after all. But once Dean parted Sam’s fly and eased Sam’s boxers over that twitching hot bulge there was no going back. Dean would be witnessing his brother hard, weeping and needy shaft. There would be no forgetting that image.

 _…In for a pound._  Dean concluded his earlier thought and parted the undone fly like tissue paper covering a delicate gift. Immediately Sam’s penis twitched up; taking advantage of the sudden increase in room.

Dean looked at Sammy. His brother’s face was flushed red, his breathing fast and his attention completely enraptured by what Dean was doing. Dean brushed his hand up and hooked his fingers over the waistband of Sam’s boxer shorts being careful not to touch Sam’s cock. Then carefully, Dean lifted the band up and over the crown of Sam’s rod before tugging the fabric down.

Both brothers hissed at the same time. Sam’s cock was free!

Dean had never thought of a penis as being beautiful; just sweetly functional. Hell, Dean had a penis of his own and had never thought much about it in an aesthetic sense. Yet, Dean marveled at the sight of Sam’s member. It was long, lean and hard like Sam himself and the beads of precum at its tip spoke volumes about Sam’s need. Dean felt his own pants become painfully tight as the desire to taste, suck and touch Sam’s dick enflamed him.

Without hesitation, Dean leaned down and started a long lick from the base of Sam’s cock to its tip. Sam threw his head back, arched his back lifting his hips off the bed, and cried, “DEAN!”

Dean took advantage of the arch and slid his hands around and under Sam and caressed Sam’s pants down over his ass bringing them to a bunch under his knees. While Dean worked Sam’s pants down, he continued to use his tongue to probe at Sam’s slit for more of the salty fluid; the musky essence that was uniquely Sam.

Sam’s breath stuttered as his body was overwhelmed with the need to pant through the pleasure or hold his breath at the same time. He was so lost he almost didn’t notice when Dean had stopped tasting him until he felt Dean remove his shoes and socks. Sam lay back and sorted out his breathing as he let Dean finish stripping him.

With a few final gentle tugs, Dean removed Sam’s jeans and boxers. Dean sucked in his breath at the sight before him. Sam’s needy and flushed body was stretched out naked before him and Dean was harder than he had thought possible. Sam was glorious. Only a few patches of skin, covered by the remaining sleeves of the shredded shirt, were hidden from Dean’s gaze.

Dean drank in the sight. Sam walked around in clothes that seemed a bit too big, giving the illusion that Sam was tall and gangly. Dean had known that wasn’t the case; having seen his brother in various states of undress before. However, this was different. Now, it was as if he was seeing his brother for the first time; seeing him other than a brother. Dean saw the man Sam and Sam was a sculpture of warm, smooth flesh designed for carnal delights.

Sam became aware of the cool air of the air conditioning flowing over and around his naked body. Instead of cooling him, it just drew his attention to how hot he was; how flushed his skin had become with desire. Sam also became aware of the feeling of being watched; studied. He looked at Dean. The hunger in Dean’s eyes was almost frightening, thrilling, and threatened to overwhelm Sam. Sam began to close his legs to feel less on display.

Dean quickly, but gently, grabbed Sam’s ankles. Wordlessly Dean continued to let his eyes feast on Sam’s body.

Sam looked at Dean then turned his head away. He couldn’t deny his brother, but the red flame in him wasn’t ready to give in to Dean just yet.

Dean released Sam’s ankles when Sam turned away. He continued to map out Sam’s body with his eyes. Dean wanted to touch and taste every inch of Sam; consume him. He wanted to make a feast of Sam until his brother was so overwhelmed there was no room in him but the need for Dean.

Dean toed off his shoes and reached into his pocket to pull out the lube and condom. He placed the items he needed on the bed. Then Dean quickly stripped out of his jeans; finally freeing his own painfully erect and dripping cock.

“Sammy,” Dean said quietly as he picked up the lube and condom.

Sam heard the silent command in Dean’s voice; the silent command to once again look at him. Sam, unable to disobey that voice, turned again and looked at Dean and gasped. Dean was nude before him! Dean’s thick cock, with its weeping tip, flushed almost purple, was erect and pointed towards his stomach.

“We’re going all the way with this, Sam,” Dean said as he held up the items in his hand for Sam to see. Sam’s eyes widened with the implication. “Granny said the only thing that could save you was a lover’s touch.”

Dean set the items back down on the bed and began to crawl back up Sam’s body again. This time the crawl started between Sam’s legs; not outside them.

“I love you, Sam. And if it’s a lover’s touch you need, then I’ll touch you. I’ll touch you  _everywhere_.”

Dean crawled up Sam’s body; he made it an exercise in sensuality. He let his hands and legs brush against Sam’s body and then Dean paused. He stopped with his dick agonizingly close, but not touching Sam’s longer member. As if there were some magnetic field between them, Sam’s cock twitched up towards Dean’s. Yet, Dean kept them just out of reach.

Dean stared at Sam while he hovered; waiting for some sort of reaction. Some part of Dean needed to know if Sam agreed to this or not. Dean would still do what he had to, but some part of him needed to know just how high a price he was paying.

Sam struggled for coherency. The twin fires were no less out of control and his body was screaming for release. Yet some part of his rationality was clawing to make sense out of what Dean was saying. Beyond the unknown and frightening physical implications of what Dean was saying were the very real ramifications of what this would mean to them.  _We’re brothers!_  Sam’s battered sanity choked.

“Dean, we can’t,” Sam whimpered torn between the painful need for release and the hazy fear. “It's wron….” 

Sam was interrupted by the feel of Dean lowering his thick cock down to Sam waiting length. Very gently Dean began to rock his hips. The two cocks, slicked by sweat and precum, began to slide against each other setting up delicious tendrils of pleasure that threaded through both men

“Dean!” Sam panted.

Dean smiled and balanced himself on one hand. He wrapped his spare hand around the two entwined cocks to sheath them. Dean began panting along with Sam. As the two slick and hard pricks moved forward in Dean’s hand he took his thumb and lightly rubbed the twin crowns; mixing the precum together.

“Uh….uh…OH!” Sam cried and closed his eyes in the rhapsody of sensation.

Dean released the cocks but kept up the gentle thrusting. He reached up and traced his cum slicked thumb on Sam’s bottom lip. Then he moved forward; stopping the sensual assault on their rods. Sam bucked beneath him in an unconscious protest. Dean continued to move until once again he could stare down into brother’s eyes.

“Sam,” Dean whispered as he started to rub that delicious lip with his slicked thumb again. Sam opened his eyes.

“Dean,” Sam pleaded, the dying rational part of his brain making a last stand. “This isn’t right. We can’t…”

“This is the taste of us mixed together, Sammy,” Dean interrupted and then lowered his head to kiss Sam. Dean first licked the precum from Sam’s lower lip and then plundered his brother’s mouth once again. This time when Dean twined and rubbed his tongue against Sam’s he was spreading the taste of them together. Their mixed precum was slick, salty and tasted uniquely of Sam and Dean. 

Sam whimpered into Dean’s mouth. The taste and the feel were burying any linger objections.  _Damn! He needed! Sam was tired of just needing and wanting._

“…And there’s nothing we can’t do together,” Dean said against Sam’s lips when he finally ended the kiss.  
  
“Please, Dean,” Sam panted and moved his legs restlessly.

“What, Sammy?”

“I need…God! I need to…I need... _Oh Please_!” Sam began to hungrily kiss at Dean and arch into him.

“What do you need, Sam?” Dean continued to question.

The ghost of Sam’s rationality couldn’t, wouldn’t let him beg for release from Dean. It allied itself with the still burning desire for the witch. As badly as Sam wanted release, and wanted Dean, he couldn’t ask for it. Sam was burning alive with conflicting desires and doubts.

“Help me, Dean,” Sam finally responded in a thready needful voice.

“Always,” Dean answered and then lowered his full body against Sam. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean’s hips. Once again their cocks were enmeshed together in a sensuous dance. Sam began to thrust against Dean as Dean wrapped his hands into Sam’s hair and assaulted his mouth.

Sam panted and whimpered; Dean swallowed each breath and sound. Each noise and each puff was a delicacy to Dean.

Dean timed the thrusts of his tongue to match Sam’s thrusts. Each slick thrust was answered with another one until neither man knew who led and who followed. They were locked into a rhythm which was driving Sam into an incandescent oblivion.

Sam’s thrusting grew more forceful and erratic while Dean continued to dominate and possess Sam’s mouth. Flames of red and blue danced as spots behind Sam’s closed eyelids. Sam’s body seized into a long arch with a final powerful thrust and he screamed into Dean’s mouth.

As Dean devoured and drank down Sam’s scream; Sam’s seed erupted hot and wet over their cocks and Sam’s stomach. The moment was eternal and brief in the way only powerful orgasms can be.

Dean relinquished his claim on Sam’s mouth and breathed deep in an effort to keep from cumming himself.  He concentrated on his promise to save Sam.

Finally, Sam’s body relaxed underneath Dean and Sam lay on the bed gulping in air. Dean looked at his brother. If he was glorious in a blaze of need; he was wanton and magnificent in the picture of release. Dean’s balls tightened with their own need.

Dean lifted his body from Sam and knelt back between Sam’s legs. He reached down and ran his hand over his cum splattered penis.  He raised his hand to his lips and began to feast on Sam’s juice.

As Sam settled back into his body he became aware of two things; there was still a lingering ember of need pulling him to the witch and Dean had moved off of him. Sam opened his eyes and gasped as he saw his brother licking Sam’s cum off his hand.

“Finger licking good,” Dean said as he caught Sam watching him. There was a brief pause and then both brothers chuckled.

“Dude,” Sam said, “That was bad.”

Dean smiled.

“Well, it sounded to me like you thought it was very  _good_.”

Sam groaned and not in pleasure but at the wordplay. Now that some of the edge of his need was off; it was good to joke with Dean again, even if under this twisted circumstance.

“I thought you were going to fuck me, not torture me.”

“Oh, Sammy, I’m going to do both,” Dean replied as he leaned back forward and took Sam’s flaccid penis into his mouth. Dean began to softly suckle and lick until Sam’s cock was clean and twitching with renewed interest.

Dean then began to clean Sam’s balls; first gently licking them and then slowly sucking them one at a time into his mouth and rolling them gently with his tongue. The musky taste and smell of Sam were imprinting on him and he thought from this moment on he would forever get hard with just the scent of Sam.

Fire was stirring in Sam once again, only this time the blue blazed brightest.  _Dean! Dean!_ Sam thought.  _I love you too!_

Dean moved on from Sam’s testes and back up to that smooth stomach. Dean tormented himself by cleaning the cum all around Sam’s belly button before tormenting Sam by lapping at that favored hole.  _New plan_ , Dean thought,  _whiskey and chocolate here only_ after _Sam cums._

Dean hummed in pleasure at the thought of the combined tastes. Once again over and over Dean lapped until he was satisfied he had licked away every drop of the slick substance and Sam was once squirming and panting.

‘”Fuck! Dean!” Sam shouted.

“No,” Dean grinned as he moved back down to tunnel his tongue at the crease between Sam’s hip and leg. “Its fuck Sam, and we’re getting there.”

Sam groaned in pleasure and frustration as he spread his legs wider giving Dean more access. Dean took advantage and began an oral assault behind and around Sam’s balls. As he moved lower to lick at Sam’s perineum, Dean grabbed Sam’s inner thighs and held them wide.

“Oh..oh…Dean! Dean!” Sam began to chant.

“Open your legs wide and bend your knees,” Dean commanded as he moved to lie down between Sam’s legs.

“Wha..?” Sam began to ask even as he followed his brother’s command.

“Trust me, Sam,” Dean said as he moved his hands down lower and cupped Sam’s firm ass. Then he tenderly parted Sam’s cheeks. Dean began to rub little circles on those firm globes as he kissed and nibbled gently at them.

Sam lay stunned at the feel of Dean’s hands and mouth on his ass. His heart thudded louder in some unknown fear coupled with the desire Dean had re-ignited. The thumbs and kisses were circling closer and closer to a place no previous lover had ever touched. Sam wanted to move, to pull away, and yet he felt oddly enthralled by the rhythmic seduction.

Dean could feel the tension in Sam; he knew it was more than just sexual. He kept his advances towards Sam’s other little hole soft and gentle. Dean began to add little licks; prepping Sam for the final assault.

Finally, Dean’s kisses reached that little hole with its musky smell and soft puckered skin. Tenderly and tentatively Dean began to lave Sam’s opening.

“Deeeeaaaan!!!” Sam screeched as he fought to keep from arching up at the feel of Dean’s warm wet tongue at his core. Never could he have imagined that he could feel such intense pleasure and stimulation.

Dean licked and lapped at this new little hole while Sam panted and whimpered. As before with Sam’s belly button; Dean found himself entranced and feasted on Sam. Sam squirmed and his cock swelled. Once again Sam was being consumed by a need. This time there was little conflict. He wanted Dean.

“Dean…Dean…Dean,” Sam began a passionate chant of want and desire.

Dean responded by stepping up his offensive and pressing his tongue deeper; breaching Sam for the first time. Sam’s body clenched around Dean’s tongue in response to the incursion. Dean wiggled and pressed forward.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Sam screamed with raw animalistic pleasure.

Gently, but aggressively, Dean began to tongue fuck Sam. Dean drove his tongue in and out of Sam’s hole; each time going a little deeper and wiggling a little more. Then when Sam whimpered exceptionally loud; Dean withdrew his tongue and began pushing the tip of his middle finger against Sam.

Sam froze, stunned at the new sensation.

“Just breathe, Sam,” Dean ordered.

Once again Sam obeyed. Sam lie there with his dick hard, passion thrumming threw him and breathed through the slight pain and discomfort as his brother worked his finger inside him.

The tight feel and heat of Sam engulfing his finger caused Dean’s cock to twitch in anticipation.  _It’s so tight around my finger!_  Dean thought.  _What’s it going to feel like around my dick?_

Both men were surprised when Sam’s ring suddenly gave way and Dean’s finger slipped all the way inside. Discomfort faded into a sense of fullness for Sam, and then a new pleasure as Dean began twisting his finger.

The whole experience with Dean had brought Sam to a new level of need and sensation he had never known existed. He hadn’t thought there were any new pinnacles of pleasure to reach until Dean’s finger brushed a spot deep inside him. Sam’s world flashed white and he arched in pure bliss. Then Sam began to fuck himself on Dean’s finger desperate for it to hit that spot again.

Dean nearly spurted all over himself watching Sam fuck his finger. He’d never seen anything so wanton and so hedonistic. Sam was hot!

“Oh God!…Dean…Dean… Dean!” Sam cried his eyes tearing at the overwhelming delight. Then Sam whimpered as Dean withdrew that wonderful digit.

“Dean, please,” Sam begged.

“Shhh,” Dean comforted as he reached for the little tube of lube and slicked up three fingers. “It’s ok.”

Carefully Dean began to work two of those fingers into Sam. Sam didn’t even flinch; his body and his mind both willing to endure any discomfort to have any or both of those fingers caressing that spot inside of him. Once again Dean felt Sam’s body welcome him inside and then he began to twist and scissor his fingers. Over and over he brushed the little nub inside of Sam while he stretched Sam’s hole.

When Sam was insensate Dean slipped in a third finger. 

“Please..please…please,” Sam begged even though he was too far gone to know what he was begging for. All he knew was salvation lay with Dean.

Dean withdrew his fingers, sat up and reached for the small tinfoil packet. He ripped it open using his teeth. Then he rolled the latex sheath of his hard and purple cock. He gasped at the sensation. Damn, he was close!  _Keep it together, Dean¸_  he chastised himself. Then Dean spread a generous amount of lube over his latex covered dick.

Once the condom was in place and he was well lubed, Dean moved forward and reached over Sam to grab a pillow.

“Lift up, Sam,” Dean ordered.

Reality crept back into Sam’s brain.  _Fuck!_  Sam looked at Dean. Once again Sam was frozen between the fear of what was happening and the desire for Dean. The desire for the witch was a very, very distant third.

“Lift up, Sammy,” Dean ordered again. This time Sam complied. His gaze was still locked with Dean’s.

Dean slid the pillow under Sam’s hips. Then Dean moved forward and pressed the tip of his erection against Sam’s entrance. Dean grabbed Sam’s hips.

“Dean…,” Sam whispered.

“I love you, Sammy, and that bitch can’t have you. Not while I’m here,” Dean answered as he began to press forward.

Sam hitched his breath at the pressure and then relaxed; surrendering to Dean.

“Saaaaaam,” Dean breathed as Sam’s ring gave way letting Dean inside the snug inferno.

Both men fought the urge to thrust. Sam needed to feel that hard length entering and rubbing against that sweet spot inside him; no matter the initial pain and discomfort. Dean needed to bury himself in the heated haven that was Sam.

Cautiously Dean began to move, to thrust just a little forward and then pulling back.  _Fuck! He needed to cum!_ Sam tried to thrust in answer but Dean held his hips firm. Sam whimpered.

Dean thrust a little harder. Sam purred through the burn and the pain. Pleasure was waiting on the other side. Sam struggled against the cuffs and tossed his head from side to side as Dean continued his advance and Sam’s body adjusted.

If Dean had thought watching Sam fuck his finger was hot, seeing Sam’s body take in his cock was blistering. Dean watched as his prick kept edging further and further into Sam. Dean had never felt anything so tight or scorching around him before and the fates forgive him; he needed more!

Dean’s tempo increased and Sam welcomed the deeper, quicker thrusts. Once again he tried to thrust back in answer to Dean. This time Dean let him. Dean was too lost in his own need now to control the situation any more.

Together, Sam and Dean began to move and buck until Dean was sheathed completely inside of Sam and rubbing that special spot inside. Dean’s hands were locked around Sam’s hips slamming him into Dean. Sam’s long legs had snaked around Dean’s waist and were clenching him tight. Together, Sam and Dean rode each other until the red desire in Sam went out like a match and the blue inferno engulfed them both.

Sam’s whole body clenched around Dean as he shot his seed for the second time; spurting the searing fluid over their stomachs. Over and over he shouted Dean’s name. Dean answered with a deep pulsing inside of Sam as he spilled his own seed.

“Sammy…Sammy…Sammy…,” Dean wept with the power and the intensity of their shared explosion.

The room quieted as both men remembered how to breathe. Sam relaxed his grip on Dean and lowered his legs. Gently Dean pulled out of Sam and tried not to think about how he already missed that heat.

Then Dean rolled over and lay next to Sam. Dean removed the used condom, tied it off, and flung it in the vicinity of the waste can. 

Sam laughed. “You are so picking that up.”

Dean laughed in response then turned to look at Sam.

“You ok?”

Sam looked back at Dean.

“I don’t think my ass is up for any long drives any time soon, but yeah, I’m OK.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam’s answer. No long drives? Did that mean…?

“I’m ok, Dean,” Sam said reading the unasked questions on Dean’s face. “The hex is broken.”

“How do I kno…?"

“Dude, all I want…really want right now is for you to let me out of these damn cuffs. Then I want a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.” Sam paused and then smiled at Dean; the smile Sam only used on the rare occasions anymore when he was happy and at peace. “You did it, Dean. You saved me.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you like. I'll post the second part "Scars."

Dean basked for a moment in the warmth of Sammy’s smile and then rolled off the bed. Dean picked up the keys and flipped to the handcuff key. As Dean crawled back up on the bed to release Sam he became uncomfortably aware of just how “naked” they both were.

Somehow having their stomachs’ splattered with Sam’s spent passion made Dean feel even more “nude” then he’d felt ever before. Dean blushed and noted a return blush as he freed Sam. Sammy sat up and accidentally brushed his shoulder against Dean’s chest. Shock ran through Dean’s system. He practically leaped off the bed.

“Sorry,” Sam muttered.

“It’s, ok,” Dean said moving to find his pants and turning his back to Sam. “Look…uhm…why don’t you take a shower?”

“Dean,” Sam began. “Maybe we shou…”

“I could see how that ruling the night thing is working for Wendy’s and get some burgers if you’re hungry,” Dean interrupted. He jerked on his pants and marched into the bathroom.

“Dean…,” Sam tried again desperate to get his brother to talk.

“You have to be hungry. I know I am and I’ve actually been eating the last few days,” Dean’s voice floated out of the bathroom to Sam. Sam could hear running water.  _He’s trying to wipe away what we did._

“I could use something to drink too. You know one of those mattress soakers,” Dean continued as he stepped back in the main room, rummaged through his bag and pulled out a shirt. Dean sniffed it and then shoved his head and limbs through the appropriate holes.

“Hell, I could see if they have a liquor store open and maybe get a few beers. I mean we could cel….” Dean ran out of steam.

“We could talk abou…” Sam tried again.

“NO!” Dean replied and looked at Sam.  _Big mistake!_  Sam hadn’t moved. He was still on the bed. He was still naked. He still smelled of sex and desire. His hair was still disheveled from their lovemaking and his lips bruised and debauched looking. Sam was still bearing witness to their mutual bliss.  _He’s still sin and temptation; **my**  sin and temptation!_

“Sam…I can’t. We ca…”

“You said we could do anything together!” Sam said angrily and stood up. “We did this! We can talk about it!”

Dean turned his back to Sam again. He couldn’t see him this way.

“Dean, please,” Sam said more softly and moved closer to Dean.

“Sam, just take your shower.”

“Are we ok?” Sam said as he reached out a hand and laid it on Dean’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Dean lied.

Sam felt the rigid tension in Dean’s body channeled to where he touched him. He saw the forced straight spine and he heard the lie. Sam needed them to be ok. He needed that more than he needed a shower, more than he needed time to process what had happened and apparently more than he needed to cover up. Being this close to Dean’s clothed body suddenly brought Sam’s attention back to just how “unclothed” he was.

“I’m going to go take that shower now,“ Sam said as he released Dean. “But please, Dean, don’t go anywhere. Don’t leave me.”

Dean grimaced.  _Don’t leave me._  Those three words uttered by Sam could keep Dean standing still in the middle of a Kansas tornado. Dean nodded.

***

Sam left Dean standing in the bedroom and went into the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. Sam tried to recognize the face before him. It was his face, but it was so very different. Never, in all the time with Jess had he ever looked so thoroughly “satisfied” afterward. Suddenly the phrase “rode hard and put away wet” had a new meaning for Sam.

Dean had been a whirlwind of seduction and with or without the hex Sam had been caught up in it. Sam had been collateral damage in the battle between the witch and Dean.  _But I was also the prize!_

Sam stripped off what was left of his shirt and let it fall to the floor.  Next, Sam stepped into the shower, turned the water on and then adjusted the temperature. Sam watched in fascination as the water washed away the evidence of Sam’s passion.  _It can’t be washed away that easily._  

Sam’s breath caught as he relieved in his mind the exquisite moment when he’d cum screaming into Dean’s mouth.  _Would I want it to be washed away that easily?_

As Sam washed his body of sweat and seed, Sam’s mind washed itself in memories. Sam remembered Dean holding him when he had had nightmares after his first hunt. Sam remembered Dean holding him still as he slowly breached him.

Sam relived his first day of school and how Dean had held his hand. Sam also recalled the sensation of Dean kissing him where no one had before.

Images and moments rushed through Sam’s mind; both Dean the brother and Dean the lover were demanding his attention. The common theme was always Dean and they all came back to one phrase.

_“I love you, Sammy…”_

Sam shut off the water and stepped out of the tub. He grabbed a towel from the rack; Sam dried himself and then wrapped the towel around his hips. Sam bent down to pick up his shirt and stopped.

Sam’s ruined shirt lay on the floor wrapped in a pile with Dean’s bloodied shirt. Both shirts were ruined. Sam ran his hand through his hair and stepped back out into the bedroom.

***

Dean listened to Sam take a shower. He wanted to leave. God, he really wanted to leave. But he couldn’t. Nor could he sit on “the bed.”

Dean had intended to go over and strip the bed so at least one of them could sleep on it and yet he couldn’t. Dean had looked at the bed with its twisted blankets, abandoned handcuffs, and his belt. A sense of the profane and sacred had washed through Dean so completely and so equally he hadn’t been able to touch the bed.

Instead, Dean had sat on the hard uncomfortable chair at the tiny table along the far wall next to the AC. There he had remained; tracing circles on the table with his finger and thinking about Sam.

Dean thought about the first tooth Sam had lost and how proud Sam had been of his gap-toothed smile. Dean thought how that mouth had tasted all grown up. Dean put his head down on the table and closed his eyes.

Images of Sam flickered before him. Dean saw Sam’s face on the first day of school. Dean saw Sam’s face as he arched underneath him. Dean really wanted to be lost in his thoughts but he couldn’t be. He kept finding his way and that way always let him back to Sam; specifically Sam wide open and hot beneath him.

_Sam, what have I done?_

The bathroom door opened. Without thinking, Dean looked up and saw Sam walk out wearing only a towel. Desire flashed through Dean before he could check himself. Dean looked away.

Quickly Sam walked over to his own bag and dug out some sweats and t-shirt. Next, he sat on the “clean bed.”

“Dean…”

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Dean groaned turning finally to face his brother. “Can we leave it at that? It was the only thing…I…I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Dean,” Sam smiled. “It’s all right. I mean…you saved me. Maybe there was another way. I don’t know. If there was, we might not have found it in time. But you did save me.”

“This is not exactly helping you on your quest to be ‘normal,’” Dean grunted with a half smile.

Sam chuckled a little.

“I don’t know. Maybe this  _is_  the most normal thing we’ve ever done.”

Both brothers laughed.

“Seriously,” Sam started again. “Dean, promise me we’ll be ok. Don’t let what happened come between us. Don’t feel guilty about this, Dean.”

Dean looked Sam in the eyes.

“Sammy, I don’t. I don’t feel guilty about tonight or what I had to do to save you.”

Sam returned the gaze. He didn’t see any deception in Dean’s look or hear it in his voice. The last vestige of tension he hadn’t realized he carried, released inside him. Sam smiled then yawned.

“Ok,” he said as he began to wiggle under the covers and lie down. “If we’re ok, I’m going to get some sleep. Wanna get the lights?”

“Sure,” Dean said then stood up.

“And Dean…you can sleep..I mean share the bed with me,” Sam hoped Dean would say yes. He knew neither of them could sleep on the other bed and Sam really just needed to be close to Dean. He needed some time with Dean the brother.

Dean looked at Sam.

“I didn’t think you’d want…” Sam said and looked at the other bed hoping to hide his need.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Let me get a shower first,” Dean knew what Sam was really asking. He’d heard that same tone in Sammy’s voice too many times after a monster movie marathon to miss what Sam was really asking.

“Ok, but don’t expect me to wait up for you,” Sam said as he relaxed and closed his eyes.

“Never do,” Dean quipped as he turned off the light and made his way to the bathroom in the dark.

“No guilt, ok?” Sam’s sleepy voice floated to Dean across the dark.

“No guilt,” Dean lied before slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Dean didn’t feel guilty about what he’d done that night. He did what was necessary to save Sam. Dean did feel guilty though. Dean felt guilty because he wanted Sam and this time it had  _nothing_  to do with saving him.

Dean knew he was going to  _burn_  with that guilt for a long time.

-Finis-


End file.
